10 Butterflies
by hts911
Summary: From up to down. I've moved from bad to worse. 11 moments, memories, or whatever else you want to call them. Sometimes life sucks. And I can only remember that.


**AN: So this was my very first ever Naruto fiction (which was understandably taken down due to it's summary not being "G" rated, but is now officially reposted) and its actually somewhat depressing. To help anyone who's reading, it'll be best to know that this fic is sort of like a general expression of a multi chapter story that I may or may not do. I don't know I'm undecided. But this is important to know, because the format of the story is intentionally unorganized since it is in fact little snippets. This comes from a probably OOC (due to the topic) Sakura. Somewhat Sakura x Gaara at the end.**

**Warning: implied rape (IMPLIED; it's not actually graphic)**

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**10 Butterflies**

**1**

Silence. Absolute and stifling silence. It's become the enemy of my battleground and the calm after the storm. Wrapping its spindly fingers around my neck, grasp suffocating and removing any and all chances of breath, of life from my being. No air goes in, nothing goes out. Not a gasp, not a word. And none of it even matters because I have nothing left to can say. My mouth opens anyways, against my mind, against my will, fleeting words of desperation forever trapped in my throat. Silence. That's all that's left. I couldn't tell you if I wanted to.

**2**

3 months and 14 days. Time doesn't fly when you're not having fun. I still go out. I still make face. I have a reputation to obtain, of course. I'm there. That's all there is to it. Just being there but making no real contribution. I make nothing, am nothing. Something. I need something…need _someone_. Maybe…maybe….maybe. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe it's all just a dream. Or maybe…all of it, every single piece, is just a nightmare that I'm still in the process of living.

**3**

I go back. Against my wishes, against all my hopes, I travel back there, back then. My mind lurches, swarming with imprisoned sensation, forcing my body to go back with it. Inside I'm cowering, unprepared for what can only be called the unfortunates of my life. Outside I'm strong; I'm a fighter, swinging at everything in reach. Scream. Kick. Punch. Claw. Yell. _Anything. _Anything until I'm all drained out. Hands covering face, body morphing into that fetal position. Teeth biting into my lip so hard it bleeds and that is nothing compared to the pain being dealt everywhere else. I shake. I quiver. I cry. I cried. I still cry now. And I can't stop the tears. Eyes shut to block out my surroundings. Eyes open to see if it's finally safe. And I come to find that I'm all alone. Look around and remember. I am all by myself.

**4**

Tune out. I tune out everything. I don't hear the ringing of the phone. I don't see the overpowering flashing of the TV screen. I don't notice the relentless pounding on my door. I don't even feel the pained, hurried thumping of my heart. I push it all out. I push and push and push until I'm lost in a sea of nothing. No sound, no sight, no feeling. Nothing. Oh me. Oh my. Oh sweet image of serenity.

**5**

I remember the feeling of his hands on my skin. I remember how they were rough and calloused, how they seemed to engulf every piece of me in their warmth. I remember how he used to touch me so gently. Like I was a prized artifact, worthy of being marveled at for centuries. I remember how he changed. And I remember how the touches changed with him. I remember how those hands began to wander. How they covered my mouth. How they muffled out my screams. How much they hurt when they pushed up against my lips. How bad they felt when they ceased to be gentle on my skin. I remember it. I remember it all. I don't want to. But I do.

**6**

I still think about the day I first met him. The way he smiled at me so shyly. The way his whole body seemed to laugh when he did. He said he thought I was an angel. He said that he thought I was a divine creation. He said he thought I was lovely. _Lovely._ The word was foreign to my vocabulary and I'd been called many nice things in my life. But lovely…that was new territory. I thrived off his words. I thrived off him. I let him in with open arms, welcomed him into my being. It was an invitation. I loved him. Or maybe…it's just like how you said and the only person we can love is ourselves.

**7**

Some days it makes me sick. I think myself into a corner; psyche myself out of my mind. Everything seems to play back. Like a scene from a movie. Front row seats and high definition. And I'm the only occupant of that theatre. My stomach, it clenches, it flutters, and not in that feel good kind of way. Turbulence. All those wrong things encase me. I feel my heart beating against my chest so hard I think it just might burst. Then I feel my stomach lurch and I'm force to give. Even if I don't want to, I have to. It's automatic. I give it back. I give it _all _back. All those feelings, all those moments, the kisses, the touches, the screams, the tears. Everything. And then it's just me there and the left I've made.

**8**

I remember the day I met you in the park. Everything was peaceful and so damn happy and serene. Except for you. You sat on a bench, brooding expression on your face, ruining the air with all the bad vibes you sent in all directions. I thought you needed someone to cheer you up, maybe even just to talk to. So I sat next to you. Five minutes passed. Five minutes of you glaring at me before I had even tried to speak. Honestly you managed to frighten me. Not enough to leave, but just enough to shut up and enjoy the moment. The day after it happened, I went back to the park. This time you sat next to me of your own free will. At that moment something clicked. I didn't know what it was exactly back then but that wasn't the importance. What mattered was that in my time of utmost confusion, something had.

**9**

Happiness. I remember that I used to take that feeling for granted. I thought it was white or black, either you were or you weren't. I know better now. That light and airy feel. The way that everything seems to tickle my skin. How my heart feels like it's dropped some baggage. I _like_ it. I like it a lot. There are different forms of that feeling; it's a fact I'm in the process of figuring out. I feel one form now. It's not the strongest touch of it. But it's the best I've been in months.

**10**

I love how you always know the right words. The way you mange to pinpoint the exact moment when your input is needed. The way you think it's not a big deal. I love how you rarely ever prod for information. The way you only ask questions when I need them. I love the way you listen to me. The way your expression has minimal changes to everything I say but it only matters that you _get_ it. I love the way you don't fake it. The way you don't mind being blunt, even if it hurts. The way that you don't lie to me the same way everyone else does. But mainly, I love how you're broken. How you don't try to act like it's alright, like you're alright.

**0**

Fixing. The process of putting all those pieces back together. Some of them are lost forever. Some of them were never actually there to begin with. But I'm fixing. We're fixing. Neither of us can promise that it'll be okay. We can't even say that things will get mildly better. But we can try to super glue, duct tape, and staple everything back together. And the fact that we're even trying is what really matters.

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**AN: Just to clarify anything from the story (in case you're wondering) all the times it sounded like Sakura was talking to anyone in specific, it was Gaara. He's not the guy who raped her. In fact the identity of that guy is left to the reader's imagination. Oh, and Sakura doesn't have any sort of ED. Snippet 7 was a totally involuntary action brought up upon her emotions (like how some people get so nervous they puke).**


End file.
